


Ghost in the Machine

by draculard



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Enemies to uhhhh well they fuck, Extremely Dubious Consent, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Rush has never believed in the separation of body and mind.
Relationships: Nicholas Rush/Everett Young, Past Nicholas Rush/Gloria Rush
Kudos: 17





	Ghost in the Machine

There's no point fighting; Rush's nose is bloodied and his face pressed painfully against the wall, and he's proven nothing except that he's bound to lose. He twists his head, neck aching from strain and pressure, Young's fingers tangled in his hair; his nose twinges as he inadvertently presses it against the wall, and a tender spot on his cheekbone is sure to blossom into a bruise, but he turns and looks at Young nonetheless, huffing out a smile when he sees the expression waiting for him:

Rage so deep it's almost murderous. Lust, both blood-related and otherwise. Pain, like Rush has forced him to confront a part of himself he doesn't want to acknowledge is there.

"Something I said?" Rush asks.

Anticipation tightens in his gut. Surface-level, he tells himself that he hopes this little joke will diffuse tension, make Young realize what he's doing, convince him to let go. Deeper down, Rush knows exactly what he's doing. He's not surprised when Young's fingers tighten in his hair, pulling strands out by the roots; for a moment, that broad, callused palm is pressed flat against his skull, and then the hand becomes a fist, and Young uses Rush's own hair to drive him face-first into the wall.

Stars erupt before his eyes. His left knee bounces off the steel; he's kept up only by Young's hand in his hair.

 _Don't goad him,_ says Destiny — the AI — Gloria. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of light, there and gone in a flash.

A hallucination, he tells himself. With black dots still wavering in front of his eyes, it's not a difficult lie to believe. He's still dazed when he feels Young's hand gripping him tight on his hip, pulling him closer, scrabbling at his fly.

A choked sound escapes him — or _one_ of them; maybe it's Young who's gasping for air, each breath coming out desperate, ragged. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, it's impossible to tell. He rests one palm against the wall, letting the cold steel thrum of Destiny's drive flow into him even as Young presses against him from behind.

His cock is hard and thick and hot, and it's all Rush can do to keep himself standing, to keep from shivering. He doesn't say no; he feels bruises forming on his hip, his face, his neck, and presses his forehead against the wall deliberately, letting Young thrust into him as hard as he wants, as fast as he wants — so long as the rhythm brings his skin against Destiny's; so long as the friction pierces his brain and leaves him raw.

Young doesn't reach between Rush's legs to touch him; he doesn't know if the other man is hard or soft, and makes no efforts to find out. In the cold recesses of his mind, Rush counts out thirty minutes that seem like an eternity, using the hum and click of Destiny's superconductors to keep track of every second. Behind him, against him, Young grunts with frustration, unable to find release.

Thirty minutes tick into forty-five. When Young comes, it's with a dissatisfied growl; his hand clenches down on Rush's wrist almost vengefully, not like a man caught in the throes of climax, but like a man blaming his partner for something that has, yet again, gone wrong.

He pulls away. Rush pulls his trousers up and buttons them at once, but without haste, refusing to do anything that might make him seem self-protective, vulnerable, frightened. He gives Young a cool, unimpressed glance and watches the other man's expression fracture, becoming something else.

In his periphery, Rush sees a flicker of motion and light, sees Gloria reaching out to him. He closes his eyes and banishes her. The AI is nothing but a computer program; like the human mind, it has no consciousness, only a series of synapses and sodium-driven thoughts creating a semblance of real thought. He waits for it to leave, but instead he senses it draw nearer, feels it touch him.

Doesn't feel it touch him. _Can't_ feel it touch him, because it isn't a physical creature, because it can't touch.

He opens his eyes, sees Young watching him.

Wonders what he'd do to feel that touch again.


End file.
